


A Thousand Words

by perias



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perias/pseuds/perias
Summary: A picture says a thousand words.(Gratuitous Exarch and Krile friendship fluff, with generic WoL stand-in. Friendship never dies!)
Relationships: Krile Mayer Baldesion & G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Krile Mayer Baldesion & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	A Thousand Words

“Ah,” Krile says. “Before you return to the First, my friend, I have a request I would make of you.”

The Warrior of Light, turning to go, tilts his head.

Encouraged, Krile continues, smiling pleasantly as she stands on her tiptoes to slide a wrapped parcel off of the nearby table. She hands this to him, and it sits in his grip, solid and firm and decidedly book-shaped. “Tell our friend the Crystal Exarch that I still remember what happened with the morbols. And that… I should like him to have this.”

Confused, he just nods.

\--

The Exarch’s reaction when the Warrior of Light repeats her words is an *interesting* one, to say the least.

He meets the man in the Umbilicus – his real study, where the man actually spends most of his time. And unlike the Ocular, the Exarch’s study is crowded with the artifacts of his existence. A watercolor of Mor Dhona, gifted to the Exarch by Alphinaud some time ago; books in weathered Eorzean, their covers worn and well-loved.

“The morbols…?” The man’s face, uncovered by the cowl, blanches. Then the Exarch sighs, smiling ruefully. “Of course. Of all the things to remember…”

And as is the Exarch’s wont, he of course doesn’t explain it.

“ _Morbols_? Dare I even ask?” the Warrior of Light asks, shifting his bag into his lap and opening it. He easily withdraws the small parcel Krile had given him to pass on out of the eldritch depths of his rucksack, and holds it out for the Exarch to take.

“’Tis better if you did not know,” mutters the Exarch, leaning forward to receive the package. “As I am sure you can remember, I was…foolhardy, in those days.”

Ah, yes. He remembers that - remembers all too well that game of cat and mouse across Eorzea. _Aethersands_ , indeed. He sighs and shakes his head. "Maybe, he admits lightly, smiling.

The Exarch’s brows quirk up in rueful acknowledgment. “In my defense, I believe my reasoning then was to test your mettle.“ His crystalline fingers rest on the twine. “...Do you mind if I open this here? I think it only fair, considering you brought it all this way.”

“You did all the hard work.” It’s why the Exarch is sitting on his couch, rather than standing in the Ocular as he would normally. While it is easy for the Exarch to return the Warrior of Light to the realm where he’d come from, it is not so easy for the Exarch to summon him back.

The Exarch doesn't acknowledge the compliment - he only shakes his head lightly and begins to unwrap the package with careful hands. Twine unfurls; paper gently tugged from the adhesive that holds it in place. Before long the contents of Krile's gift are laid bare - a letter, and a small, leather-bound book, clearly well-loved. It's more akin to a journal than some sort of esoteric tome and upon its worn cover is embossed the symbol of Sharlayan, and as the Exarch strokes the supple leather his lips curl into a soft, happy smile. 

His reverent fingers push the journal open.

“Pictures,” the Exarch exhales, awed. Dozens of them, glued to the pages. “My gods, I…”

Curious, the Warrior of Light catches a glimpse of a grinning Krile, clad in plain robes and much smaller than you remember her being. She is accompanied by a young, surly-looking G'raha Tia by her side, the pillars of a tall building just visible behind her.  
  
_Oh,_ he realizes. He knows what this is, and as the shocked, happy silence stretches further, he shifts on the couch, readying to dismiss himself.  
  
"Should I leave you to it... G'raha?" he asks, kindly. He would not interrupt this for the world. G'raha Tia - the Exarch - he deserves this much, and more.

At the mention of his old name, the Exarch's head snaps up and he shakes it vigorously. "No - I, forgive me. You may stay, my friend. Pray do not let the musings of this old man bother you." A wry smile. A self-deprecating grimace. "It has been a long time, for Krile. ...And a still longer time for me. I did not think she would have kept this."

"I didn't realize Krile was an artist. These pictures are incredibly detailed." 

_That_ gets a laugh out of the Exarch.

"Heavens, no," he chuckles, lost in a memory. "I do not believe she would know which end of the paintbrush to even hold." Fondly, he strokes the image, his carmine eyes lingering on his much younger self. "Krile developed a peculiar little magick - very fascinating, really, the implications it has for light - one she called photo-graphy. She was ever so proud of it, until her studies took her on a different path." He turns the page and the paper creaks obligingly. 

For a while, there is silence, the Exarch devouring the memories contained within each of these images. Page after page of photographs - people whose names live in the past, distant but no less fond. "It seems so long ago. Like a dream. I wonder how they are, now." 

The Warrior of Light and Darkness smiles to himself. 

"Happy, I should think," he says. "Thanks to you."   
  
A future that will not come to pass. After all that suffering, that neverending uncertainty... 

...it's nice. 

\--

They spend about an hour in pleasant conversation, but unfortunately for the Crystal Exarch, the Warrior of Light and Darkness is called away to pressing business.

He sees the hero to the door, his heart yearning to follow, before returning to the book of memories that Krile had seen fit to give him. They’re precious things, dear to his heart, memories he’d been afraid of losing after all those years drenched in the Light. The Exarch smiles gently, stroking the leather again. The sigil of Sharlayan… of knowledge. How they would laugh to see him now, keeper of a sacred history he knows he must not forget.

 _Where to put this, though?_ He doesn’t think that Krile would much appreciate it if he hangs it up on the wall like he wants to. The Exarch picks up the journal, fully intending to put it in a safe place, but – - a letter slips from the folds, fat and heavy with _something_.

Curious, he picks it up and takes it to his desk, sliding a letter opener underneath the pressed wax seal.

 _To Raha,_ it reads, and he unfolds it carefully.

A shower of photographs spill outwards, tiny and small, each no bigger than his palm and much lesser in quality than the ones carefully preserved and labelled in the journal.

“Can this be…?” the Exarch whispers. 

He picks one up – an exotic city, Hingan script, the blurry shots of Alphinaud and Alisaie in unfamiliar clothes – unknown, painstaking handwriting on the back, reading Kugane. _Hingashi. Alphinaud and Alisaie._ Another, and this time it is of a pretty girl with light colored hair, wearing clothing that the Exarch recognizes as Ala Mhigan in design. _Lyse and the sun set on the lochs._

There are so many images. Many of them are inexpertly taken, but all of them steal his breath away. It feels like a journey – an adventure, as if…

…as if he had come along, too. With trembling fingers, he turns his attention back to the letter.

_Dear Raha,_

_I imagine it has been a long, long time for you. When our friend told me of your story I could not help but bite back a smile. That Raha, I thought, always so willing to throw himself so fully into something. It was so very like you._

_I found this old photo-book from our Studium days some time ago and I thought that you might enjoy it. And then that prompted an epiphany._

_You see, some time ago, before our mutual friend set off on his Far Eastern excursion, I asked him to take the photo-machine with him. I’d always wanted to see the East, and at the time I thought this to be my best chance. But… you would enjoy these more than I ever could._

_They’re arranged chronologically (as best as I could tell, anyhow. You know how poorly our friend takes to organization). Somewhere down the line he took to photo-graphing the landscapes. And I can tell why: they’re breathtaking._

_Your adventure on the Source may now be past, but know this: your next adventure - your journey - is just beginning. I can’t wait to hear about what you do next, ‘Raha._

_With the greatest love,_

_\-- Krile._

_P.S. Our friend doesn’t know I’ve added these to the package. But I am sure he will be more than delighted to tell you the stories behind them_. 

-

It comes like a storm. G'raha Tia can't help it. 

A tear rolls down his face, and another, and then another.   
  
"This is hardly fair," he mutters, his ears flattening as the tears flow unabated. "I said I wouldn't cry anymore." Not for the first time, he is grateful for his privacy. How embarassing, G'raha Tia thinks. He is over one hundred years old, and yet...

"...Thank you, Krile," he sniffs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I still have feelings for ShB and it's terrible I think the Exarch needs more friends and also a big hug


End file.
